


Your Heart Is A Muscle

by Anonymous



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: First Times, M/M, i did some basic character development for this version of them lmfao, it's 009
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Akira Fudo: [Img]Akira Fudo: :)Ryo Asuka: ...Akira, what’s this?





	Your Heart Is A Muscle

**Akira Fudo:** [Img]

**Akira Fudo:** :)

**Ryo Asuka:** ...Akira, what’s this?

 

    Akira tries his very best not to laugh out loud in a public toilet as his apparently _very_ prudish boyfriend floods his texts with a multitude of messages. He can almost see the flush on Ryo’s face, the way he’s probably pushing his glasses up his nose and averting his eyes even though he’s probably just sitting at his goddamn computer. Like usual.

    Sweet, sweet Ryo. Blushing at a subtle underwear shot from his boyfriend.

    He grins again, a corner of a canine poking out from between his lips. “He’s gonna fucking _flip_ at this one,” Akira snickers, and sifts through the various image folders on his phone until he’s found the one he’s after.

    It’s one he’d taken a few weeks ago on a whim, on some weekend where Miki and the rest were out doing...something, and he had the house to himself. Getting the guts to send it had been a long time coming, and honestly, he’s got nothing to lose.

    Or everything. This could land him in some deep shit if it got out, but whatever.

    Snickering, he finds it, and takes a second to admire it before clicking send.

    It’s a casual mirror shot, something he’d not taken too much time to think about in terms of composition anyway, but that’s not the important part. The important part is the fact that he’s stolen Miki’s school uniform, and is wearing that and nothing else except a pair of black panties he’d bought for this purpose, and this purpose only.

    It’s too small on him, and the skirt’s a little too short, but that had worked for his purposes at the time, so he’s not complaining. A strip of his stomach is showing, and he’s grinning at the camera in one of those typical instagram blogger poses. Turned three-quarters, and a bit of his panty-clad ass is on display to the viewer.

    Yeah, Ryo’s gonna die when he sees this.

    He clicks send.

 

**Ryo Asuka:** Akira Fudo

**Ryo Asuka:** What is this

**Ryo Asuka:** Why are you sending me this

**Ryo Asuka:** I should be mad at you for sending me erotic photos of yourself at times where I might be in public

**Ryo Asuka:** I hope you’re not in public

**Ryo Asuka:** Please tell me you’re not in public

**Akira Fudo:** no im not :)

**Akira Fudo:** :0 do you like it ryo??

**Ryo Asuka:** :/

**Ryo Asuka:** I hope you know you’re the reason why I smoke so much

**Akira Fudo:** I do ^3^

**Akira Fudo:** speaking of i ran out lol wanna let me drop by over so i can grab some?

**Ryo Asuka:** It’s my fucking weed, Akira

**Ryo Asuka:** But sure

 

    As absolutely, 100% predicted, Ryo Asuka is flustered as hell and not wanting to admit it. Akira rubs his chin thoughtfully as he exits the toilet, a spring in his step and optimism in his heart. Maybe this will be the night--finally. Where Ryo will cease with his odd prudishness and finally admit that he _really_ wants to fuck Akira. Not before Akira sucks him off, though. He imagines how red he’d be, flushed in the face and bouncing one knee as his best friend in the world licks his dick.

    Flushed, gentle, trembling a bit. Not wanting to hurt him, despite the fact that Akira’s fused with a demon and extremely durable. The thought of reducing his otherwise unshakeable friend to such a desperate state makes him feel very powerful.

    He rubs his hands together. He can’t _wait_ for tonight.

 

    At this moment, Ryo Asuka is cursing the very existence of Akira Fudo.

    Hands shaking, he puts a cigarette to his lips and lights it, then reclines his long body back on the couch with a world-weary sigh. His phone buzzes again, but he staunchly ignores it. It’s going to be Akira again--nobody else texts him.

    He doesn’t know how to deal with this new provocative side of Akira Fudo. Before his fusion with Amon, Akira had blushed even _thinking_ about something like bare tits or thighs. Let alone actual _genitals_. It appears that post-Amon Akira has no such qualms, and seems intent on getting what he wants.

    Ryo’s fingers curl tighter around the cigarette, and he takes a drag, nervousness flitting in his breast. He’s no stranger to sex, with most of his seventeenth year and part of his eighteenth spent in various clubs seducing various skeevy men with promises of a good time. Drugs and alcohol and a fuck with no strings attached were the lifeblood of the slowly self-destructing Ryo Asuka back then.

    “Back then” meaning only a year ago, of course. That time seems forever ago now.

    He’s clean, no heroin or alcohol in his system for six months now. Four months since he’d finally chopped his tits off. The scars are still a bit sensitive.

    Though it’s been nearly ten months since he brought Akira to the Sabbath. Since he changed. They spend their days and free time exterminating the many demons haunting the woods around their little town. It’s easy shit, not that hard. Sometimes he gets flashbacks to...other times. Times that haven’t gone this well.

    Sometimes he wakes up afraid, heart in his throat and a panic attack squeezing it tight, the product of a vivid nightmare. Nightmares of himself, of Akira, of others. Dead, dying, dismembered. The world--destroyed.

    He’s desperately afraid of hurting Akira. The guilt for what he did to him--fusing him with Amon, forcing him to become one with a bloodthirsty _monster_ \--it hangs heavy over his consciousness. He’s afraid of indulging in the most vanilla of sex, even though he himself has been exposed to various kinks and fetishes in his life.

    Dear Akira hadn’t known what he was in for when he sent Ryo that photo of himself in that skirt. A guilty pleasure, a mirror of the more reckless half of his youth. He takes another drag.

    The phone buzzes again. He reaches for it this time, groaning in despair with himself and his life, unlocking the phone with a swipe of his thumb.

    **Akira Fudo:** when do u want me to come over ? its friday so i can whenever lol and i dont have homework

    **Akira Fudo:** oh my god are you really that embarrassed

    **Akira Fudo:** hey living smokestack

    **Akira Fudo:** hey

    **Akira Fudo:** hey

    **Akira Fudo:** ryo asuka

    **Ryo Asuka:** Don’t spam me like that ever again

    **Akira Fudo:** XD

    **Ryo Asuka:** Whenever is fine, honestly. Just let me know beforehand.

 

    He is...probably going to regret this, even if the primary mission of his boyfriend is to just pick up some weed. Phone typing one-handed sucks, so he puts the cigarette down on the coffee table ashtray before replying to the next incoming text.

 

    **Akira Fudo:** btw

    **Akira Fudo:** [img]

    **Akira Fudo:** dont throw ur phone

   

    This...new image makes him grit his teeth, and he almost _does_ throw his phone. It’s cute as fuck and he hates it _so much_. Somehow, he’d gotten ahold of a bright red leather dog collar with a tag on it that says Akira on it in bold letters. Another image comes in, a photo of the other side of the silver tag.

    _Property of Ryo Asuka_.

 

    **Ryo Asuka:** Changed my mind you can’t have my weed

**Akira Fudo:** :(

    **Ryo Asuka:** I’m putting my phone down and you will not be texting me until you announce your plans to be here

    **Akira Fudo:** :(

    **Ryo Asuka:** I will block your number Akira

    **Ryo Asuka:** I swear you are the reason I will be an alcoholic again

 

    He slams his fucking phone down on the coffee table and decides the appropriate reaction to whatever the fuck he’s feeling right now is to scream into the couch cushion.

 

    Akira rings the doorbell to Ryo’s stately home at approximately 6PM.

    “Hey!” Akira smiles widely at his boyfriend when he opens the door, dragging him down by the collar of his blue turtleneck to give him a kiss in greeting.

    “Hello, Akira,” Ryo says when they pull apart, voice audibly strained. His cheeks are flushed pink. “You’re here a bit early.”

    “Only by ten minutes!” Akira winks.

    “I wish you’d be that early to your classes.” Ryo mutters under his breath. Akira snorts at that.

    “Yeah, yeah,” he scoffs, “I get it. C’mon, lemme at your stash.”

    “Later, Akira,” Ryo closes the door behind them. “Please be patient. Remember that I’m still a bit upset at you.”

“Aw, really?” Akira pouts, kicking off his shoes and throwing his coat over the coathanger. “Just for a couple cute pictures?”

“I’ve just finished putting dinner on the table.” Ryo artfully deflects, disappearing into the kitchen. “Join me when you’re ready, Akira.”

Yeah, he’s getting some tonight. Akira noticed the way that Ryo very deliberately avoided looking at him directly, always glancing off to the side with a soft blush on his face. Flustering stoic Ryo Asuka is a goddamn art form, and he’s got it _down_.

Whatever the hell dinner is, it smells amazing, and Akira’s mouth is watering to comical degrees when he sits down. Platters of meat, a huge bowl of rice, various steamed vegetables. He piles his plate high, pours a ridiculous amount of whatever sauce that Ryo had set aside on top, then voraciously digs in.

Across from him, Ryo is much more subdued in his meal, his portion only a third of Akira’s and the speed of his eating slowed. He takes small, careful bites. It’s kinda adorable, the tenderness in the way that he eats in comparison to twenty guns he has hidden throughout the house.

He has a glass of wine, which is unusual, and if he’s gonna be completely honest--makes Akira smirk a little bit. Shaken up enough by a couple of lewd pictures to drink. It’s damn hilarious.

“You know,” Akira remarks halfway through the meal, “It’s so crazy. You’re only two years older than me and so freaking domestic. Like someone’s housewife, except if you were a gay guy that smokes weed constantly and had too many guns.”

Ryo’s cheeks pink for probably the fourth or fifth time that night. “Akira,” He says, voice a touch higher than usual, “Tell me that again when you’re twenty,” a fork is brandished in Akira’s direction. “Then it’ll be legal for me to _beat your ass_.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you were into spanking,” Akira chinhands, brows dancing up and down. “What other sort of kinks do you have up your sleeves, eh? Eh?”

It’s not like that he hasn’t already gone snooping around in the other’s closet searching for kinky shit, anyway. He’s more than aware of Ryo’s history of sleeping around to dangerous amounts, having been forced to cart around his drunk ass back to his home more than once pre-Amon.

Ryo’s grip around his fork tightens, and the flush of his cheeks spreads down to his neck. It’s a good look on him. “We’re not talking about this right now,” he chokes, “Akira, _please_. Let’s finish dinner. Then we can hotbox the living room until we both forget this subject ever came up.”

Chagrined, and realizing he may have taken things a bit far, Akira quiets down. “Sorry, Ryo,” He apologizes sheepishly. “Too much?”

Ryo puts his face in his hands. “Too much.”

Dinner is finished in silence, and the promised Devil’s Lettuce is procured along with a stack of rolling paper and a lighter. The that Ryo rolls joints is artful, like everything else about him. Akira wonders how those long fingers would--

He stops himself _right there._ Getting a boner in the living room with a joint in his mouth sounds like a really, really awful idea. Unless, of course, it’s intentional ‘cause he _really_ wants Ryo to fuck him.

Really.

Ryo hands him a joint and lights it for him, then lights his own with a snap-click of the lighter. He flops back onto his couch, extending his long legs to rest on the coffee table. There is an instant release of tension from his body.

Akira copies the motion, reclining with a sigh of contentment and a puff on the roll. “Should we see what kinda bullshit is on tonight?” he reaches for the T.V. remote, tapping the on button with his thumb.

Ryo’s eyes are closed, glasses slightly askew. “Something mindless. Cartoons, maybe.”

“Sometimes they play dumb American ones….” Akira flips the channels to something colorful. It’s _Tom and Jerry_. Stupid and violent, and just entertaining enough for when one’s high.

An hour passes. Another. A third, and it’s now almost 10 PM and they’ve made their way through another blunt each and have reluctantly decided to sober up a bit before hunkering down to sleep.

Akira munches from a bag of chips he’d yoinked from the kitchen, shoving them by the handful into his mouth and chewing noisily. Ryo twitches at the sound.

“Can you please not chew so damn loudly?” he says wanely, “Please. I’m too high for that.”

Akira swallows. “Eh, sorry man,” he tosses the chips to the side and scratches the back of his head. “Forgot how much that bothers ya.”

Ryo grunts. “Come here, please,” he says, opening his arms to him. Akira gladly crawls onto his lap to press big wet kisses to cheeks, forehead, and lips. He uses his teeth, sucking at the pale flesh of Ryo’s throat until he can feel the heaving of the other man’s chest beneath his hands.

They part, faces flushed and lips red from their kissing. Ryo wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and puts his face in Akira’s shoulder, hands gripping the other’s hips tight. Akira can feel a slight tent in the other’s pants, and he feels triumphant for it.

“You’re wearing the collar,” Ryo remarks quietly. He tugs at it gently, and the tag jangles. “I didn’t notice.”

“So unobservant,” Akira flicks Ryo on the forehead, “I think you were trying to avoid looking at me ‘cos you think i’m super hot.”

“I do,” Ryo agrees, reluctant. “I...do, Akira.” His grip on the fabric of Akira’s gym shorts tightens, and he can hear the hitch in the older man’s breathing when he daringly rolls his hips. “ _Fuck_ ….” he swears, breathing heavily into Akira’s shoulder. “Fuck. I hate what you do to me, Akira Fudo.”

“You love it, don’t lie.” Akira grins, leaning back and shifting his hips down, _hard_. He gets a wonderful choked off moan from Ryo, who’s losing his composure fast. “You like this. You like thinking about what fucking me would be like.”

“ _Please_ , Akira,” Ryo--whines, oh my _god_ he’s whining. “Please…”

“Please what?” Akira breathes, leaning in close to his face. “Please what, Ryo? What do you want me to do?” Daringly, his hand wanders down his boyfriend’s pale blue shirt to dance at the waistband of his jeans. He shoves his hand underneath the turtleneck, fingers ghosting up tight abs. Enhanced senses allow him to _feel_ the way that Ryo’s heart is beating against his chest, fast as a bird’s. He strokes at one of the scars where his breasts used to be, and--

Ryo’s hands move to grip at the plush flesh of his ass, and victory bells chime in Akira’s head. Feeling bold now, he leaves Ryo’s chest alone and goes right for his crotch, kneading at the hard flesh he know lies beneath. He can’t hide his own erection now, the way that it’s tenting in his shorts and probably, definitely getting his boxers wet.

“Want me to suck you off?” He grins, tilting his head to the side and showing sharp demon teeth. “Is that what we’re going for here?”

“Akira, don’t--don’t talk like that,” Ryo chokes, “You don’t--you don’t know what--”

“Oh yeah?” Akira smirks. He grabs Ryo’s hand, puts it to his cheek. His thumb catches at the corner of Akira’s mouth, the pad of it brushing against the edge of a sharp fang. “I don’t know what?” He opens his mouth, slipping the finger inside. He swirls his tongue around it, sucking on the tip. Copying something he’d seen in a porno once.

Seems it actually works, ‘cause Ryo’s entire body is trembling, and he’s biting his own lip nervously. “ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses, “ _please_.”

Akira hops off Ryo’s lap, sliding down to kneel between his legs. “You know, for a guy who’s used to sleeping around, you’re pretty nervous about this.” he unbuckles the other’s jeans, making him jump. “Granted, I’ve never done this before.” he pulls them down aways, to see Ryo’s erection tenting in his boxers. He licks his lips. “Though, I’d like to give it a shot.”

He pauses. “If you’re okay with that, of course.”

Akira watches Ryo’s throat bob as he swallows. He can almost see the gears turning in his head, an inner battle being fought. A hand that had curled into a fist, reaches hesitantly to touch upon the top of Akira’s head. He takes that as consent, and dives in to pull the boxers down before he chickens out.

Ryo’s dick is modest, cute almost. It’s pretty like the rest of him, flushed pink. Akira gets a soft gasp from him when he wraps his hand around it, giving it an experimental jerk or two. He knows how _he_ likes it--fast and hard. But he’s not sure if Ryo would appreciate him attempting to violently rip his cock off, so he takes it slow.

Slow, slow. Gentle. Ryo’s knee is bouncing, and he puts his other hand on it to steady it. Waits for him to settle, then leans to mouth at the tip of his cock, dragging his tongue up the underside.

So what if he’s copying porn moves again? Inexperienced as he is, his only goal right now is to make Ryo feel good. Nothing fancy; just dragging his mouth up and down the length of him with soft suction. Teasing the veins with his tongue, scraping gently with his teeth. He can tell Ryo’s enjoying it by the way that his fingers curl in his hair, the way that he gasps, the way that his knees and his feet toe in slightly.

Feeling bold, he opens his mouth wider, swallowing Ryo’s cock to the base in one smooth movement. He’s rewarded a louder moan, choked off at the end. He glances up to look right in Ryo’s blue eyes, sees the uncharacteristic emotion that’s swimming in their depths. He’s got his free hand clamped over his mouth to stifle his whimpers.

Akira smirks around his cock, pulling back slow. _He_ did this. _He_ turned the unshakable Ryo Asuka into a shaking mess with just a blowjob and some fancy, sexy speeches. He feels goddamn proud of himself.

He lets go of the tip, lets it fall out of his mouth to flop wetly. Akira crawls back up to pry Ryo’s hand away from his mouth and kiss him deep, tongue licking in, making him taste himself on his lover’s lips. Trembling hands hasten to yank down his gym shorts and boxers, and long fingers wrap around his own--substantially larger--cock. Amon has blessed him in regard.

Ryo huffs into his ear. His other hand trails to stroke around his backside, circle at the pucker of his ass. “We need lube…”

“Yeah,” Akira mumbles, “Might need that…”

“The dresser at my bedside,” Ryo frowns. It’s cute. “Or maybe….” he leans over to the side, digging a hand between the couch cushions--and procures a goddamn half-full bottle of lube.

“Well, that’s convenient,” Akira snorts, “God, you’re always prepared for literally everything. Even a couch fuck.”

Ryo rolls his eyes at him. “You never know. Now,” he uncaps the bottle, squeezes some of the lube on his fingers, puts it to the side. “You are going to tell me if it hurts. You will not lie.”

“Okay, _daddy_ ,” Akira snorts, not expecting the way that Ryo’s face colors at the word. He barks out a laugh. “Oh my _God_ , Ryo. You’ve got a daddy kink, don’t you?”

“Usually, I’m the one on the bottom,” Ryo says under his breath, “Pretend I didn’t say that.” His hand returns to Akira’s ass, and he pushes one finger in.

“I’ll remember that-- _ohmygodohmygodohmygod_ ,” Akira nearly bowls over, the push of the finger in him sending his senses into overdrive. “ _Ryoooo_ ,” He moans. “Oh my _god_.”

It’s Ryo’s turn to smirk now. “You’re such a virgin,” He laughs, finger pressing deeper. It feels _wonderful_. “Maybe you should fuck me next time.”

“Maybe,” Akira pants, “Maybe I will. God. I can’t tell you how much I think about your pretty ass when I jerk off.”

Plush pale cheeks, splattered with cum. Dripping down the curve of his ass and over his balls onto the floor. It’s a fantasy Akira’s indulged himself in many times before, asides from the one that’s currently being re-enacted in real time. Maybe Ryo would let them play with his toys one day.

You know what they say about the bookish types. All kinky fuckers, the lot of them.

A second finger is pushed into Akira’s ass, fingering him slowly with scissoring movements. He moans, panting heavily, pressing his face into Ryo’s shoulder. He feels another laugh reverberate through his boyfriend, and gets ready to bite back with something witty, but Ryo’s fingers hit _something_ inside him and he feels every nerve in his goddamn body stand on end at once.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he wheezes, shivering mightily. “What. The fuck-- _ah_.”

Ryo slips a third finger in. “Congratulations, you’ve just discovered where your prostate is,” he jokes. “Or rather, I have.” Again the tips of his fingers hit that bundle of... _whatever_ inside Akira, it’s probably a ball of nerves or some shit, can’t be rocket science. He rolls his hips, gasping, opened-mouthed like a dying fish.

“Can’t you just--” gasp, “--fuck me,” another gasp, “already, Ryo, _dammit!_ ” he whines, thrusting his hips back on Ryo’s fingers.

Ryo chuckles. “You’re so cute, Akira,” he coos, stroking his hair with the hand that isn’t shoved in his asshole. “I do love you so.”

“I’ll wipe that cocky smirk off your face,” Akira growls, his face burning with the compliment. “I will.” In his second bold of the night, and definitely more ballsy--ha--he lifts himself off Ryo’s fingers and aims right for his cock.

He groans as the head crests his entrance, gasping as it slides in smooth and deep. Ryo’s hands grip his sides, pulling him flush against the other’s chest as his hips thrust up involuntarily. The tags on his collar jingle as he lifts himself up, to slide back down Ryo’s cock.

Ryo’s lost all his earlier regained brovado, the gorgeous red flush back on his face and a tremble in his limbs. He’s gentle, _so_ gentle, and tender in the way that he slowly slides in and out of Akira, little hitches and gasps in his breathing giving away how much he’s being affected.

Akira himself feels like he’s found goddamn nirvana, the slide of his cock and the _full_ feeling from it driving him absolutely mad. Heat’s pooling already in his loins, and he knows he won’t last-- _virgin--_ but _fuck_ , if this doesn’t feel phenomenal. Like nothing he’s ever felt before. Better than ice cream, better than petting a purring cat. Just fucking _good_.

Now he understands why Ryo slept around so much in his younger years. This shit could get addicting, dammit.

“Fuck--Ryo,” Akira moans, wrapping his arms around the back of the other’s neck as he bounces in his lap. “Ryo, Ryo, Ryo--

“Akira,” Ryo gasps, “Akira--” he whimpers, seeking the other’s mouth with his own, to kiss him breathless. The movement of his hips start to stutter, the grip of his hands on Akira’s sides tightening in the fabric of his shirt. His breaths get faster, harder, and then he’s crying out into Akira’s mouth, coming in a chorus of soft whines.

Akira follows not long behind him, slamming his ass down one last time and _howling_ as the stimulation drives him over the edge, heat curling through his body and making his vision white out. Head tossed back, mouth gaping, he cries out again, and comes down from his high with shaking limbs.

Ryo holds him tight, clutching him close. Kissing his lips, his cheeks, the crown of his head. Akira’s overwhelmed with the amount of love in the gesture, and he finds himself with tears in his eyes as he hugs his boyfriend back.

“Love you, Ryo,” he whispers, “love you _so much_. Thanks for...thanks for sharing this with me.”

“The attempts at seduction were unnecessary,” Ryo strokes Akira’s hair back from his sweaty forehead. “You just needed to ask.”

“But you were always so...cagey about it, and I knew that you’d fucked around a lot, so…” he shrugs.

“I was...worried, at first, yes,” Ryo admits, “I didn’t want...to hurt you. I wasn’t the most gentle of lovers a year ago.”

“But you didn’t, Ryo,” Akira soothes, “You didn’t. Don’t be ashamed of yourself.”

Ryo doesn’t answer that. He touches Akira’s face with tenderness, drawing him in for another kiss. “Let’s go get cleaned up and ready for bed,” he says softly. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was meant to be under 3k now it's not
> 
> EDIT: aler on twitter did some AMAZING fanart....please check it out !!! https://twitter.com/aler_ame/status/974664093163405312


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